


Lyrical Love

by Idreamofhazel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cursed Sam, Developing Relationship, F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Love Confessions, Poetry, Self-Discovery, Undecided Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 22:46:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8227346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idreamofhazel/pseuds/Idreamofhazel
Summary: You and Sam have some particulars to work out in regards to your relationship, but things get very complicated very quickly after a messy trip to a coffee shop.





	

You sat in the passenger seat of the Impala with your hands folded in your lap, the rain beating against the hood and sliding down the windows in snake-like trails. You scrunched up your jacketed shoulders, bracing for the onslaught of water, as your eyes followed Sam around the front of the car to your door. He threw it open, holding out his hand and you took it as he helped you out of the car. You made a run for it together across the street, the scenery a blur through the showers, except for a striking raven perched on a bench outside the shop. Your gaze followed it as you ran by, but you quickly forgot the sight once you were safely inside the tranquil coffee shop.

Your clothes dripped and you both panted and laughed at each other as you stood just inside the entrance, relieved to be in a dry environment. Sam’s appearance amused you-his normally soft, full hair in strings reaching to his neck, making tiny puddles on the hardwood floor. His hair had caught the most of it, but his jacket and pants still showed signs of the sudden downpour. He was looking at you with an equally amused grin that was joined by his eyes that twinkled with enamored delight. His gaze felt heavy, so you shoved it off and turned away, looking for a place to sit. There was a small table for two just beside the front window to your right.

Sam followed closely behind you, his presence a safety and a stressor all at once. He slid a chair back for you before you could do it yourself, making you pause from an accidental touch, a bit rigid from the formality of the gesture, but you weren’t a rude person. You smiled a thank you and sat down, sloughing off your jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair, then pushing the chair in yourself.  


When Sam finally sat down, after hanging his damp jacket on his own chair, his nervousness began to show as his usual collected demeanor flaked away in bits and pieces with a table-tap here or a shift-in-his-seat there. The next few seconds drawled on through the uneasy quiet that had situated itself between you and Sam.  


“What do you want? I’ll go order,” he said to give himself something to say.  


“Just the usual.”  


When Sam reached the counter, you indulged in one deep, relaxing breath, holding it in a few seconds before releasing. You found yourself watching the back of him as he stood in the short line, towering above the rest of the customers. His mere presence gave you heart palpitations and sweaty palms, worsened by butterflies and knots in your stomach, but you could never take your eyes off him and his were continually glued to you. His absence was always bittersweet. You had repose from the anxiety-induced sensations, but that was only replaced by twisting heartache. You wanted him close, but he gave you a bad case of the nerves. Even simple interactions, such as your daily good mornings, were quick pleasures that were here and there in an instant, but their impact was lasting.  


That’s why you were here, sitting in this coffee shop during a rainy, cold, autumn day, observing how Sam waited for coffees as if the scene were a museum exhibit. You quietly looked on, noticing how the drips were less frequent from his hair and his hands were tucked in his pockets while he waited, and how the intimidation of his tall figure was overshadowed by his unassuming demeanor. He wanted to be a burden to no one, even while waiting for an order. You appreciated all these details, taking them in just for the pleasure of viewing as your chin rested in the palm of your hand.  


A barista spoke to him over the counter and he returned to his seat empty handed. The orders were taking longer than usual, so someone would bring them out. The cafe didn’t seem busy enough for delays, but neither of you thought much of it. You were in each other’s presence alone, after all. That gave you both enough to consider on its own.  


If Sam was as nervous as you, he didn’t let it show. You envied his ability to remain collected. You felt like you were bursting at the seams with frenzy and butterflies, that every gaze shift or hand swipe across your jeans gave everything away, but if Sam noticed, he was too much of a gentlemen to point it out.  


“Perfect day for a first date, right?” he joked.  


“Ha, yeeeah. It’s perfect for a hot coffee, though.” You smiled shyly.  


The barista brought out your orders, placing Sam’s black coffee in front of him and your latte in front of you.  


“Sorry for the delay,” a strikingly youthful, male barista said. You couldn’t help but hold the man’s gaze as he stood at your table. “And you two are a beautiful couple, if you don’t mind my saying.”  


Your saucered eyes looked from him to Sam, but Sam just blushed like a schoolgirl and mumbled a thanks. The barista went on his way without any more surprises or replies from you or Sam. It was better not to attempt an explanation of what you two really were, or weren’t, or almost were. You couldn’t decide on a title or description yourself and you doubted that Sam had any novel ideas about your relationship.  


Sam brushed off the comment while you were still flustered over the forward compliment and he began the real conversation the only way he seemed to know how: right to the point.  


“Can I be forward with you for moment?” he asked.  


This was it, you supposed. The moment you and Sam put your feelings out in the open. You simultaneously dreaded and pined for this moment, the former being solely due to your inability to understand or express what you felt towards Sam, the latter due to the deep lovesick sensation twirling and growing within you daily.  


You cupped the warm latte in your hands and drew yourself in, bracing for his words. “Sure.”  


“I really like you, Y/N, I’m sure _that’s_ no secret now.” He paused to laugh softly and make sure you understood. He hadn’t asked you here to chat as friends, but he hadn’t needed to spell that out for you. “I just wanted something more formal to start us out in this, whatever this is.”  


He stopped, observing your reaction. You sat still, clutching your cup and wishing he would continue. You hadn’t thought of a good reply yet, so you could say nothing. This wasn’t your area of expertise, unlike Sam, who seemed to be the most poetic and able with words in general, as well as admission of feelings.  


He shifted and huffed, preparing to get to the point of his words, the sticky, messy part that would no doubt have you awkwardly stuck to the sidewalk of blooming relationships, pulling at the gunk under your shoe as Sam strolled on forward effortlessly.  


“What I mean to say, is that I came here to ask you, if you want to have a relationship. It doesn’t have to be formal or official or anything yet, but I would love there to be _something_ , if you want.”  


You quickly realized that Sam was on the other side of the street, on a different sidewalk, and you were stuck with your foot in the metaphorical sewer grate.  
You said what you were thinking before you thought about what you should say. “Sam, I didn’t realize you felt that way.”  


“You didn’t realize I liked you?”  


“No, I mean, the relationship thing, I didn’t realize that.”  


Sam bit his lip and sat back, mentally assessing what was going on between the two of you, watching your movements and facial expressions, which were no doubt troubling to him. You tried to keep the shock and wariness under check, but it was difficult. You needed time for these things, time to work out your feelings before anything like relationships were laid out on the table.  


You quickly realized he had not expected the conversation to play out this way. He couldn’t hide his disappointment, not in the rush of the moment. You wanted to remedy it and you tried, but there was only so much you could do when two people were in separate places on the relationship timeline.  


“Sam, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”  


“No, don’t apologize. I’m just getting ahead of myself I guess,” he sighed.  


“I do like you, Sam.”  


“You don’t have to do anything to make me feel better.”  


He said that so earnestly and you knew he meant it. Despite his hurt feelings, manipulation was never an option for him. However, placating him was not your goal.  


“No, I really do like you. I just need time, to work that out, and us.”  


“I understand.”  


Sam had cheered up slightly, knowing that you did have similar feelings for him, but the change was not enough. He was sorely disappointed, probably more in himself that he had read all the signs wrong, but you knew it was your fault. You fumbled and stumbled when it came to relationships. You expressed your feelings like a child riding a bike without training wheels for the first time. You always crashed.  


Sam’s phone rang, a startling savior for the crumbling date. It was Dean, of course, relaying urgent information to Sam. It was time to return to the motel and resume the case work. The end of your time with Sam was conflicting emotionally, just like the beginning. Slipping away from the dying conversation was a breath of fresh air, but it was frigid air that bit at your lungs and throat as you looked at Sam and saw disappointment and the future you probably just ruined.  


Sam took a couple large gulps of his coffee and threw the rest away, but you kept what remained of your drink. During your departure, he still opened the door for you at the exit and at the car. Outside, the sun was now blazing, creating glares off the tops of cars, but the temperature remained cool. The weather should have flopped to match the way your date progressed.  


On the way to the motel, Sam’s expressions grew more forlorn, his face twisting into one of strain, dismay, and back to strain again. It were as if he struggled to hide his emotions, like he could break out in cries at any moment. It unnerved you and you entered the motel room with trepidation, worrying that Dean would crack open the seals of your date, noticing that something was up with Sam.  


At first he hadn’t noticed, or at least he ignored, Sam’s continual struggle-the contorted expressions and under-breath grunts. Sam leaned over the table, looking down at the maps and articles Dean had gathered without really seeing them, focused on the inward battle. You watched with uneasiness, deciding not to bring up anything painful, but Dean finally had enough.  


Dean slammed his hand on top of some papers and looked at Sam with bewilderment. “Dude, what is your deal? You drink some sour milk at the coffee shop or something?”  


Sam looked up with tears in his eyes not yet falling onto his cheeks. The scene shocked you, twisting your stomach with guilt. You hadn’t realized how badly he was hurt by your indecision.  


“I- I-” Sam struggled to get even a few words out. Finally, through gritted teeth, he managed a small sentence. “I need to say something.”  


“Well, by all means, spill your heart to us Sam! But make it quick. We’ve got work to do.”  


Sam focused on you, ignoring Dean’s exasperation, his anguished expression tensing your muscles. Whatever you expected him to say couldn’t be good, and you braced for an emotional assault, but what actually came out of his mouth rendered both you and Dean speechless.  


“I have not had one word from her  
Frankly I wish I were dead  
When she left, she wept  
a great deal; she said to me, ‘This parting must be  
endured, Sam. I go unwillingly.’  
I said, ‘Go, and be happy  
but remember (you know  
well) whom you leave shackled by love.’”  


All sound was sapped out of the room as you and Dean waited for an explanation, but Sam seemed just as put off and confused as the two of you. He stood, mouth remaining open from his final poetic words as he looked on at you and Dean, hoping that all of that hadn’t just escaped his mouth.  


“Sam?” you inquired, intensely worried for the state of the man you had half-rejected only thirty minutes before.  


“Dude, what the hell?” Dean shook his head and returned to looking at the papers. “If you guys got issues, take that crap out of the room.”  


Sam look half shocked, half pained, as if the words that had spilled out of his mouth were just as incredulous and alarming to him as they were to you and Dean. He cocked his head in confusion, promptly shutting his mouth.  


You inched towards Sam, extending a hand to his arm, but he backed off. “Sam, what’s going on? Are you feeling ok?”  


He mistakenly opened his mouth again.  


“Come back to me, (Y/N), here tonight,  
You, my rose, with your Lydian lyre.  
There hovers forever around you delight:  
A beauty desired.”  


Sam’s hand clapped over his mouth, trapping any more frilly nonsense that could spill out. Dean caught up to you now in concern, rightfully alarmed at Sam’s condition, or whatever was happening.  


“Ok, what happened at the coffee shop? And Sam, don’t say a single word.” Dean pointed at Sam sternly, to which Sam just nodded with his hand still over his mouth, his eyes agape with fear.  


This was not how you wanted the afternoon to go. Revealing your conversation to Dean was the least favorable thing on your list of things to do, but there wasn’t any way to worm out of this one. Sam needed to be fixed, or helped, or whatever it is he needed, and you couldn’t skirt around that.  


“We went to talk about our…our relationship. And I kind of freaked?” you said, shrugging your shoulders bashfully.  


“What does that mean exactly?” Dean pushed.  


“He asked for a relationship and I said no, sort of.” You were trying to avoid the entire truth. Dean huffed in annoyance, though, not understanding what you meant, so you clarified. “I told him I wasn’t ready!”  


“That’s it?”  


“Yeah!”  


Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes tight, thinking of what he could possibly do next.  


“Sam, did something happen to you? Can you remember anything strange?” he asked, releasing his nose.  


Sam struggled on whether to speak or not as he tried to remember any important details. You didn’t know if you wanted him to speak again, afraid of what would come out of his mouth.  


After a moment of recollection, he opened his mouth, waiting a moment to speak to make sure he had everything under control, but however in-control he felt was a false positive.  


“Just as the wind  
In the mountains  
Blows the oaks  
Asunder, so did  
Eros  
Blow my mind.”  


“NOPE, I am not listening to this. No way.” Dean threw his hands up in the air, completely exasperated, walking away from Sam. Then he stopped and spun to face him again. “Seriously, what the hell?”  


Sam looked absolutely freaked, having no good answer for Dean. He just threw his hands up, questioning everything the same as you were. Dean was on the verge of shouting, but something about the words struck you as unique, as if you could identify the rhythmic lines coming from Sam. Then you had it.  


“He’s speaking poetry. Ancient Greek poetry.”  


The realization washed over you, leaving you frozen with your eyes trained on Sam. Both Winchesters looked at you like you were crazy, but you knew what you meant. You didn’t know how or why, but you were right.  


“What?” Dean asked, absolutely confounded.  


“Ancient Greek poetry. ‘Lydian lyre’ ‘Eros.’ Those are Greek terms.”  


“Ok, how does that even happen?”  


“I don’t know.”  


“Can you even say anything normal, Sam?” Dean looked at him.  


Sam violently shook his head, preferring to keep his mouth shut as much as he could.  


“Cas!” Dean shouted, almost throwing a tantrum. “We need you. Now!”  


The angel instantly appeared, puzzled at Dean’s urgent tone. Nothing seemed amiss to him.  


“What’s wrong, Dean?” Cas asked, looking around the room at each of you, checking for injuries or illnesses.  


“Sam. He’s turned into some ancient lovesick poet,” Dean explained.  


“I don’t understand.”  


“Show him.” Dean gestured to Sam.  


Sam rolled his eyes. This was the last thing he wanted to do. It was embarrassing to say the least, vomiting his feelings in lyrics all over the motel floor. Plus, he was sure he’d never hear the end of it from Dean once this was fixed. But he relented and let something new spill out.  


“It seems to me he’s equal to the gods, the  
Man  
Who sits within the scope of your sweet voice  
And  
Your laughter which stirs the heart within my  
Breast.”  


Sam spoke without words once he finished, his glare saying all that he couldn’t. _There, I did it. Don’t make me do it again!_ Then he shut his lips tight.  


“Oh, that was a good one, Sammy. Sounds like you’re a little green with envy,” Dean teased.  


Sam glared at him, but you watched Cas as he stepped closer to Sam, circling him and assessing his predicament. He poked and prodded him in various places, much to Sam’s chagrin and Dean’s amusement. Finally, Cas placed two fingers on Sam’s forehead, siphoning out any information he could. Cas then turned around and revealed what he knew.  


“He’s been hit with a curse or spell of some kind. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is, but it’s ancient. It’s not black magic, though. Is there anything you can remember from today, anything out of place? That could explain this?” Cas was looking at you.  


You bit your lip as you replayed the day’s events, sifting through the details to find which ones caught in the mesh of your conscious. Nothing stood out as incredibly strange, but it was better to risk going out on a limb than to miss something important.  


“There was a raven on the bench. We had to wait on our coffees even though the store wasn’t busy. And the barista who brought our drinks thought we were a couple. He complimented us. The weather changed really fast. Those are the only things that stand out, I’m sorry.”  


“Great. All of that’s perfectly normal,” Dean snipped.  


“Will you just chill out? It’s not like he’s dying,” you groaned. You were stressed enough from the day’s events without having Dean criticize your memory.  


“Wait.” Castiel put a hand up to you and Dean. You froze with your mouths in mid-argument, watching him as he talked to Sam. “Sam, you appear as if you know something. Can you say it?”  


Sam nodded, swallowing before opening his mouth and allowing himself to utter only one word.  


“Apollo.”  


“Apollo? Like the spaceship?” Dean questioned.  


Sam shook his head. Cas and Dean were puzzled, but you mulled over that word, that name, and the details you had just picked out. When you realized what Sam meant, you were amazed at the quickness of his wit. If he hadn’t said that name, you probably never would have figured it out yourself, but with Sam’s incredible insight, you put two and two together.  


“No, the Greek god. The raven. That’s one of his signs.” Your brain finally made the connection.  


“You guys are seriously the biggest nerds I have ever met,” Dean said. “And no offense, but a raven? Those things have got to be, like, everywhere.”  


“Not necessarily, Dean,” Cas said. “Given the circumstances, the tiniest details matter. Apollo is the god of lyrical poetry after all.”  


“He’s also the god of truth or prophecy,” you added, “which could be why he’s spewing out love poems to me.”  


“So Apollo is in this podunk town and decided to zap Sam, of all people, with some truth mojo?” Dean asked.  


“It appears so. Although ‘zap’ would not be the right word. I believe your barista was actually Apollo and slipped something into Sam’s drink. Dean, I think you need to take Sam back to the cafe and find Apollo’s current form. See if you can get him to lift this curse, with whatever measures you deem fit. I need to check something, in case Apollo has vanished.” Castiel disappeared after that statement with a fluttering of wings.  


“Alright Sam, looks like it’s just me and you. I don’t want to hear a single word from you, ok?” Dean ordered.  


Sam had no problem with complying.  


You gave Sam a sympathetic look before he followed Dean out. Sam looked incredibly uncomfortable, not being able to speak without gushing out his deepest emotions in lyrical form. He probably didn’t even know a single one of the poems he was reciting. You wanted nothing more than for this all to be over so your embarrassment could subside and Sam could stop appearing as if he were having his heart ripped out of his chest. As he walked further away from you, he looked worse and worse, until he was in the Impala driving away and you couldn’t see him anymore from the window.  


You spent the entire time they were gone pacing in the room, waiting for someone to return while fretting over the idiotic way you had handled your date earlier. Whatever Apollo hit Sam with was probably worsened by the rejection he had experienced and that was all your fault. You felt terrible.  


Sam and Dean returned before Castiel, unsuccessful in their hunt. The mysterious man had disappeared, leaving like a traveler passing through. That made sense, though, when you remembered the Greek lore on gods and their interactions with people. It was commonplace for them to visit in a human form, passing as a friend or benefactor. However, you failed to see how Apollo’s visit was benefiting any of you.  


Castiel did return, though–after many insufferable, drawn out minutes with the boys giving each other dirty looks and annoyed glares, and Sam pining after you with his gaze when he wasn’t wordlessly insulting Dean–and he had answers.  


“Sam has been affected by a spell of Apollo, and I use that term lightly. It’s not magic, it’s the power of a god, which means we can’t simply reverse it,” Cas explained.  


“So what did he do to Sam exactly?” Dean asked.  


“Some call it ‘Apollo’s Touch of Truth.’ It was said to be used for oracles so that they could speak of the future, but that’s not what has happened to Sam,” Cas explained. “Essentially, he has been cursed to speak in lyrical poems about his love of Y/N until the truth of their relationship has been admitted.”  


“Ok, that doesn’t seem so bad. All they have to do is say their ‘I love you's’ and we’re back to normal, right?”  


“Not exactly. It’s trickier than that. Sam’s love is growing by the minute. He will become increasingly infatuated with Y/N until his heart bursts, literally, unless she can discover the truth she is hiding.”  


“What? Me?” you asked, suddenly put on the spot.  


“Well, Sam has made his intentions clear, hasn’t he?” Cas stated.  


You mentally facepalmed, closing your eyes in defeat as you remembered that you were the one who had been indecisive earlier. Your answer hadn’t actually answered anything. Instead, it left more wanting and now you had to figure out what was lacking. You dreaded having to introspect. It wasn’t your strong suit, which is what landed you in this mess in the first place, but it looked like self-discovery was the only solution.  


“Well, I’ve got just one question for you, Sam,” Dean sighed.  


Sam was extremely annoyed with Dean for making him speak again. He clenched his jaw, waiting for Dean to continue, hoping he would go ahead and ask his question, but Dean gave him no such pleasure.  


“Really? What’s that?” Sam grunted.  


“How would you like your remains displayed?”  


“Oh come on Dean!” you griped.  


“No, you come on Y/N! You’re worse at this than I am. This could take you forever to figure out! Unless you want Sam’s heart-guts all over the room, just spill it already! Stop thinking about it so hard!” Dean urged you.  


“It’s not that simple, Dean! If I knew it already, do you think this would’ve happened? I need space, I need to think, all of you, get out!” You waved your hands at them, ushering them to the door that joined yours and the boys’ rooms.  


Castiel and Dean silently obliged your demand, but Sam pushed back. He strode toward you with a pleading, desperate gaze, that is until Dean grabbed and redirected him to the exit. Sam struggled, though, not giving up his fight easily. He began to grunt and mutter sounds in his fight. He opened his mouth yet again, letting his guard down as the curse made him madder with love for you, saying a poem that probably had nothing to do with what he was thinking.  


“Midnight!  
And like the hour,  
The moon and the  
Pleiades have gone  
And I,  
I sleep alone.”  


He had probably meant something more along the lines of _Get off me Dean or so help me god!_  


Dean spun Sam around in his distraction and gave him one final shove through the doorway. “Alright lover boy, calm down. No one’s going to bed yet.”  


When the door slammed in front of you, you hurried over to turn the lock on the doorknob, preventing any distractions from interfering with your soul-searching process. You didn’t know how much time Sam had, so you figured it would be best to hurry, and if you had to hurry, complete serenity was necessary for success. However, just because Sam, Cas, and Dean were out of the room, didn’t mean you could reach maximum calmness. Instead, you paced briskly back and forth, your thumping heart loud in your ears and the churning anxiety ripe in your stomach.  


This was not how you expected anything to go. You had planned to tell Sam how you felt on your own time, in your own way, not be shoved into the confessional like a heathen in church. Relationships take time. You weren’t supposed to know exactly how you felt right away, that was only normal. Except for Sam. He had practically prepared a speech and he was lacking no detail in his feelings for you. It wasn’t fair in the slightest, the gap between your self-awareness, but here you were, pacing in a motel room, all of your insecurity and indecisiveness on display, with the object of your affections dying with love for you in the next room while he spewed out ancient love poems. That was your situation and the faster you got over that and focused on the real task at hand, the better.  


That task was figuring out exactly how you felt about Sam. Once you realized that it was no use fretting over _why_ you had to figure that out, you stopped pacing, stopped breathing so hard. You halted, closed your eyes and drew in a breath, letting it out with a movement of your hands, telling yourself _I got this_ with your body language. Then you resumed walking, but this time more slowly, as you talked to yourself about your thoughts and feelings.  


Sam was more than a friend, obviously. You shared many things as friends, such as morning runs and inside jokes, but you also shared much more as not-friends. Those things were lingering stares, light flirtation, and accidental-but-not-really brushes against each other for skin-to-skin contact. But all of those actions were normal behavior for crushes, which is all you had chalked your feelings up to be. However, a crush couldn’t be the answer, given your predicament. As much as you had convinced yourself of crush-theory’s veritability, it wasn’t the truth.  


The truth was that Sam’s smile lit up your entire day and his laugh filled your soul with absolute contentment. The touch of his hands was secure and comfortable and his eyes were kaleidoscopes with which you could entertain yourself for hours, watching the colors and shapes dance across his irises as the light hit them in different ways. The truth was that Sam knew everything about you, like your favorite coffee and the types of books you liked to read, but he also knew more intimate things, like the way you slept and some of your deepest fears. The amount of attention that he paid to you was overwhelming and whenever you thought of it, your heart swelled to an immeasurable size. It was those aspects of Sam that really drew you to him. He took the time to make people feel important, he never gave up on them, and he was able to comfort almost any grievance. You’ve spent hours watching him do all that on an almost daily basis and you never tired of it. For all of this, you supposed, you could see yourself with Sam, living out some type of future with him for a long time. You could see yourself loving him for the rest of your life.  


A soft knock came from the room where Cas and Dean were holding Sam. You feared the worse, worrying that you had been too late to realize the truth. Sprinting to the door, you unlocked it and flung it open without looking to see who was on the other side. You ran smack into the broad chest of Sam, who quickly caught you in his arms as you bounced backwards.  


“Whoa, easy there. Are you that anxious to tell me what you figured out?” Sam said.  


He was smiling down at you as you looked upward, dumbfounded. Normal, English prose had come out of his mouth and you hadn’t spoken a word to him yet about your introspection.  


“You’re back to normal?” you blurted.  


Sam chuckled and brushed some hair out of your face. “It seems that way. What did you discover?”  


You suddenly blushed, faced with the reality of actually speaking out, in words, what you had thought and felt inside while pacing the motel room, what you had been thinking and feeling without realizing for months. It was burning a hole in you now, scratching and scrambling to get out and reveal itself fully to Sam. So you let it out. Your voice still shook. It was still quiet with anxiety. You still felt uneasy about revealing deep feelings, but you let it out.  


“I love you, Sam. I have for a while, and, I think I’m going to for a long time.”  


Sam beamed, still holding you in his arms, that enamored delight returning to his eyes. He was contented at your words, but not surprised. It wasn’t hard to figure out what you’d been burying deep within you, but the words were not any less sweet as he heard them from your own mouth.  


“Well, are you going to say anything?” you asked, his continual silence stirring up anxiety in you once again.  


He smirked and opened his mouth to speak and you waited expectantly for his response to your confession.  


“Seeing you like this  
Even for a second, stops my sighs within  
Yet my tongue  
Freezes  
And-”  


You groaned loudly, squinting your eyes shut as you threw your head back at the sheer ridiculousness of this situation. Sam couldn’t still be affected. You had figured it all out, dammit! You knew you did, and without a doubt. Sam started laughing, though, and you opened your eyes to see him shaking his head at you.  


“I’m kidding,” he said. “That one was all me, I promise.”  


“Oh my god, Sam! Don’t do that to me!” You lightly fell into his chest, leaning your forehead against him and relaxing as you felt all of the weight finally lift off you.  


“Consider it payback, for making me go through all that.”  


“Ugh, I know. I’m sorry.”  


“Don’t be. Just promise me one thing.”  


You looked up at him. “What?”  


“That this next step won’t take you so long to reciprocate.”  


“What do you me-”  


Your question was interrupted by a surprise kiss from Sam. His hands were squeezing your arms slightly and you found your own drifting up to rest on his waist, after which he pulled you closer. And you fulfilled your promise, taking only mere seconds to recognize what was happening and fully delve into the blissful moment. Your first kiss with Sam felt absolutely perfect and as you stood there, reciprocating his gesture as he had requested, you thought that you could enjoy kissing Sam for a long time, too, for as long as you would love him.


End file.
